


Gardenia

by thebrighteststar10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I consider this mostly fluff, Infidelity, Jealous Tom Riddle, M/M, Possessive Tom Riddle, Regret, There's minor Drarry and Hedric inbetween, Tom trying to win Harry back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrighteststar10/pseuds/thebrighteststar10
Summary: It was 4 a.m., and Harry was waiting for Tom to come home. Tom hadn't showed up to their fifth anniversary dinner that night.Because they have been with each other since they were toddlers at the Orphanage, sometimes Tom took Harry for granted and didn't show much effort for their relationship. Since Harry loved Tom more than anything, he hadn't said much. But Harry had to admit that the disappointment, the being let-down so many times, was finally taking a toll on him. He was exhausted, emotionally.The final straw was the engagement announcement on the small corner of a business newspaper he rarely reads. It was on the kitchen table, all ready for Harry to read."Riddle Co. and Black Inc., Congratulations!" It said. "Tom Riddle, CEO of the Riddle Co. has happily announced his engagement to Bellatrix Black, Heiress to the Black Inc."Cue Harry leaving Tom, Tom realizing that he's just lost the best thing he could ever have, and trying his arse off to get it back.Or Die trying.





	Gardenia

The clock struck 4 a.m., and the faint sound of it ticking jerked Harry awake from his drowsy state. He was dozing off on the sofa, waiting for Tom to come home. Today, well, yesterday, was their fifth-year anniversary, and Tom hadn't showed up to the anniversary dinner last night. It was disappointing, to say the least, not only because it was their anniversary dinner, but also because Harry had tried to make the night more special by planning every single detail of it with unusual care. He had picked the restaurant, made sure they would prepare Tom's favourite dish, and had a string quartet over to play Tom and Harry's favourite song.

Harry's blurry vision took ahold of the white, pretty gardenia bouquet he'd ordered weeks ago, now sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Gardenias.

Harry smiled at the memory it held between him and Tom. Him and Tom went way back, as far as when they could have a clear memory of themselves; they were both toddlers at the dreadful Orphanage. The Orphanage was so shitty in many ways but the only good thing about it, was that the garden had, for some reason, gardenias on the little side corner. Tom had hand-picked the prettiest ones of them all and put them on Harry's hair, saying that it matched Harry's eyes.

The flowers became something of a tradition of theirs. For occasions that common sense would expect roses or carnations, they got each other gardenias. A bit too wedding-ish, some had said, but they didn't care. They were so much more special to them than just flowers.

After college, Tom, being the ambitious one of the two, grew extremely busy, building his own company from the ground. They rarely had occasions for flowers. And Harry missed them, sometimes. He missed seeing Tom with a bunch of white gardenias that were structured beautifully like Tom was.

Harry wanted today to be special because Tom had been spending less and less time with Harry for the past two years, and he wanted a chance to revitalize their relationship. That's what people do, apparently, when they want long-term relationships to be special again. He never thought he'd have to do such things when it came to Tom, but when his home-cooked dinner stayed cold on the dining table for the eleventh time in a row, Harry knew he had to do something. So he did. And Tom didn't show up.

Tom still wasn't texting or calling him back.

Harry felt like crying. It wasn't the first time he was stood up by Tom. Tom's priority was always his work, and companies that start from the bottom had a lot of work to do. Harry knew that. And Harry had been understanding, for the past couple years. He was always there for Tom, who came home so late, frustrated and tired from work. Harry hugged him and comforted him without confronting him of missing their dinner. Because if Tom loved his work the most, Harry would do his goddamn best to help Tom get what he loved. Because Harry loved Tom, more than anything.

But it seemed like the countless nights of Harry alone on the couch was finally taking a toll on Harry.

Harry missed Tom's smiles, and the way he listened to Harry. He missed the way Tom smelled - now, Tom smelled like a mixture of expensive cologne with various fragrances from women he had to meet for 'business'. He missed the way Tom had Harry as his first and foremost priority, and he missed the way Tom has seen him as if he was the only thing that has ever mattered.

Harry had told Tom about today from weeks ago, and Tom knew, or must have heard, at least, of how much effort Harry had put into it.

The embarrassment and the humiliation he had to go through when he sent the quartet back and called off his reservation after hours of waiting, was nothing,_ nothing_ compared to him realising, just how easily Tom could forget Harry's words dripping of Harry's heart.

Harry hadn't wanted to dwell on the possibility of Tom not loving him anymore. But it seemed like he hadn't much choice left.

Because nobody would do this if they still loved Harry, right?

Harry slowly stood up. Tom usually came back before three in the morning, but today, something was holding him back. He went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He needed to get out of this suit that he'd cared to get in. He needed to wash up, go to bed, and think about this in the morning.

On the kitchen table were various business magazines and newspapers: they were all Tom's. Harry never really read them, just because they were Tom's area, and not Harry's. Harry had an eye for business, Sirius has told him that, and he sure understood the basics of it from what he learned in college. But he never really cared much about it: he wasn't interested in making more money out of money. 

For some reason, he went to the table and started mindlessly flipping them over. Sipping on his water, he gazed onto the papers that had many different charts and photographs of angry people. As he did, one small corner came into his vision.

He tried his best not to drop the glass of water he had as he read it through.

"Riddle Co. and Black Inc., Congratulations!" It said. "Tom Riddle, CEO of the Riddle Co. has happily announced his engagement to Bellatrix Black, Heiress to the Black Inc."

The article had a small picture of a couple, laughing with one of their arms intertwined with each other and the other holding a glass of champagne. It looked like a business party photo.

And the man in the picture, smiling like he's never been happier in his life, was Tom. _His_ Tom.

* * *

When Tom came home, it was six a.m. The familiar sound of the keys and Tom's footsteps somehow matched with the sound of Harry's heart, beating out loud in his ears.

"Harry?" 

Tom was looking for him in the lounge. He must've assumed Harry to be sleeping on the sofa, like Harry always did when Tom was late from work. But Harry has been sitting on their bed, with a packed bag near him. He waited until Tom came in.

"Harry, why are you awake?"

Tom was in a suit that made Harry assume that Tom wasn't just working, he was at another one of the business parties where Tom had to make 'connections'. He was probably spot on, considering the overwhelming scent of feminine perfume coming from where Tom was standing. Harry was glad that he wasn't in his own suit when he was doing this; one of them had to look less formal, or this could look like another business meeting for Tom.

Tom looked tired, exhausted. He'd probably have to go back to work in a couple of hours. Harry knew that. Without waiting for Harry's response, He started un-buttoning his shirt. Harry surpressed the surge of sympathy he was feeling for Tom.

"Tom," Harry started. Tom nodded, without looking at Harry, as a sign for Harry to go on.

"Are you getting married to Bellatrix Black?"

Tom's body stilled for a second, only to move back as it did before seamlessly.

"How did you know that?" He asked.

Harry could feel his anger at the pit of his stomach. What kind of question was that? No denial, no pleas of understanding. He bit his lip as he answered, "you left the newspaper on the table. I thought you put it there for me to read it."

Tom was now topless, and he was un-buckling his belt.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," he said, glancing over where Harry sat. "You never read them. And why would I make you figure it out, when it means nothing to me?"

Harry glared at Tom's eyes, which met Harry's for just a fleeting second and went back to his clothes.

"It's marriage."

"Yes, and your point being?" Tom was frowning, slightly, as if he was too tired for Harry's tantrums.

"I'm your boyfriend, or did you forget about it like you forgot our anniversary dinner?"

Tom, who was now in his underwear, didn't look surprised. Instead, he sighed loudly, and put his silver sweatpants on. He then walked towards where Harry was sitting and sat next to him. Harry didn't like it, not when Tom reeked of unfamiliar perfumes. He didn't turn his face to meet Tom's eyes - he stared at the ground.

"Harry," said Tom, his tone soothing, "I'm sorry."

Harry felt like crying again.

"I was too caught up at work. You know how I am."

He didn't answer. Without saying anything else, Tom took Harry's hands in his own. It felt warm and cold at the same time. Harry felt Tom's long fingers caressing Harry's, slowly and gently. It was one of Harry's favourite things.

Harry knew this was the best that he could get. The best apology Tom could ever give, to anyone.

"Marriage - what do you mean it means nothing?" Harry asked, trying not to sound choked up in tears.

"You know how my business needs connection, more than anything," answered Tom, immediately. "Ms. Black wanted a business deal that strengthens her position as a heiress, and I wanted the connection that comes with marrying into an ancient family. You must know how powerful the Blacks are in the market, business-wise."

Harry does. He didn't need Sirius to know about that.

"It was just a business contract, nothing more, nothing less. We announce our marriage, get married legally, but never have the married life together."

"Don't you think you should've at least told me about that?"

"I didn't want to bring you unnecessary discomfort," said Tom. He took Harry's face in his hand, which was large enough to do so, and gently turned Harry's face towards his. Tom's eyes were tired and exhausted, but they looked sincere. "And I knew you'd understand, eventually. So I didn't think it was necessary to tell you."

Harry averted his eyes. The way Tom's skin touched Harry's made him forget almost all of the sorrow and disappointment he's been thinking of getting from Tom in the past couple years. All of that, gone in a few touches. He was hopeless.

Tom let go of Harry and stood up.

"I'll get in the shower, Sleep first, Harry. You must be tired."

Harry didn't answer. Tom was now a few steps ahead of Harry, showing Harry his back. It felt like everything that'd just happened was a dream, and Tom was his again, in their happy little bubble. Harry was rapidly rationalizing his decision of staying, not leaving, of trusting Tom and sleeping next to Tom, even it'd be just for the next few hours.

Then it all had to break apart.

"Tom," Harry said, catching Tom right before him going into the shower. "What's that on your back?"

"Is there something on my back?" Tom asked, mindlessly. "I'll take it off in the shower."

"No," Harry stood up and strode towards where Tom was standing. Tom stood still. Harry then grasped and turned Tom's entire body around to see his back. The pale, picturesquely muscled back had tiny freshly-made scars on its sides, ones that would come from women's longer fingernails.

Harry knew what it meant. Harry knew it too well.

He let go of Tom, and stepped back. Tom turned around, meeting Harry's eyes. Harry didn't avert his gaze, not this time. Minutes of silence passed, both of them staring into each other.

Harry wanted to shout and scream so many things. All at once. But he didn't want to, at the same time, because he was just too worn out. He felt like he didn't have anything left inside of him to be angry.

"Are you sure it was work that held you back today, Tom?" Harry asked instead, voice calm.

Tom nodded. Harry sighed. Tom knew Harry figured it out, but he still was feigning innocence. For what, Harry didn't know.

"Was it-" Harry started, "was the woman you were with, today, was she-" Harry found a strong sensation around his throat, making him difficult to speak.

"No, it wasn't Ms. Black," answered Tom. His eyes were now following Harry's every move.

"Okay," Harry nodded, and closed his eyes slightly. "Then who was it?"

"Mrs. Smith."

Harry couldn't stop himself from chuckling. Mrs. Smith, of course. Harry knew she had inherited several high-profile patents, many of which being Tom's latest business obsessions.

What Harry was feeling wasn't jealousy. It was something much more depressing, something like resignation. He felt like his energy was getting drained out of him. He was still closing his eyes, but could _feel_ Tom scrutinising Harry's every move and every breath.

"And she's not the only one, yes? There were other days, with other people, weren't there?"

"...I don't understand what you're suggesting, Harry."

"You fucking do," Harry answered, with only a slightest hint of malice. He opened his eyes to see Tom's eyes boring into his own, the eyes with the amount of intensity Harry hadn't have the chance to encounter lately. "Whenever you come home late, you smell of different perfumes. Do you really think me as an idiot?"

"I do not, and you know that better than anyone else does," snapped Tom.

"Then tell me the truth."

Something like panic rapidly coloured Tom's eyes. He didn't say anything, nor moved. Harry waited, silently.

"There have been several others, yes."

The confirmation hit Harry's head like a stone. Harry swallowed his breath, tried his absolute best not to crumble apart. He was not going to fall down, not in front of Tom. He was going to stand up, like the person he was, and show Tom his back with whatever little grace Harry had left in him. He never had to do this: this, eating his real feelings up and hiding them behind a mask, not with Tom. They always showed each other everything. Or at least, that's what Harry had thought.

The last resort he had been planning ever since he saw the news article was to leave. He'd already packed his bag, although there were just so many things jointly owned in this house that the bag couldn't have come close to having all of what belonged to Harry's.

"Goodbye, Tom."

Harry turned around, walking off to the bed where his bag was. He was going to take a cab, and go to Ron and Hermione's, and then-

His wrist was snatched from behind, before he was even near his bag. He didn't look back, and Tom was trying to pull the wrist closer to himself, but Harry resisted. It would leave bruise marks on Harry's wrist the next day, and they both knew it.

"Look at me, Harry," Tom said. Harry didn't.

"What do you mean, good-bye?"

Harry shook the wrist off of Tom's grip. It came off easier than he had expected it to.

"I think you have wanted this all along, Tom." Harry took his wrist in his other hand, massaging it. "You love your work. You don't need me. I..."

"Don't be an _idiot_, Harry," Tom seethed, his voice betraying his frustration. "I need you, and I have never wanted_ this_, whatever this is."

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. Any minute now, he might collapse. Cry and shout and scream at the unbelievably cruel reality he was in right now. He couldn't do that, not here. He had to escape. He stalked off to where his bag was lying, and picked it up. Without looking at Tom's direction, he hurriedly walked out of their spacious bedroom, the one they had picked, loved, and decorated every inch of it. 

Tom hugged him from behind when Harry was crossing the lounge. Harry stopped walking. The revolting scent of perfume was overwhelming.

"Harry, is this because I've slept with others?" said Tom, and Harry could feel Tom's hands trembling. It wasn't something he'd ever seen from Tom before. "I apologize, Harry, but I thought you'd understand. They were all just because of my business. I _had to_ utilise all of my assets."

Harry felt like laughing. He didn't.

"You always understood my ambitions."

"I did," Harry answered, his voice low.

"Why can't you understand this part of me?"

Harry broke out of Tom's hug, turned around and glared at him.

"Don't you dare make this about me," said Harry. He was not going to snap, he wasn't going to lose control, he told himself repeatedly. "Don't make this about me, and blame it on my lack of understanding." Harry looked Tom in his eyes, which were now full of panic and confusion. The beautiful bouquet of Gardenias in the background faintly reminded Harry of everything.

"It's not just because of you sleeping around." Harry felt a single tear starting to fall down his cheek. "It's because of the last two years. Of you lying behind my back, not showing up to our dinners, never giving me any of your time. Of you not remembering anything I say. But most of all, it's because of how much you've hurt me. You fucking someone else while I was waiting in the restaurant I booked weeks ahead for you and I - that's just a tip of it."

"Harry," whispered Tom, voice pleading. "You never said anything. The nights I came home late, you never- you weren't even sad."

Harry smiled, and now more tears were trinkling down, but Harry could maintain himself. Yet.

"I was trying to support you, Tom. I didn't want to stand in your way to your success."

"Which you haven't, in any means."

"But I was hurting from the inside," Harry's voice was muffled and was about to break. "I tried to hold it back, because I had loved you. More than I loved myself."

Tom's face hardened completely, noticing the past tense.

Harry had to leave. He turned around, and ran towards the door. The house that they've lived together for five years - every part of it had Harry and Tom's trace on it - he was so used to it, that it felt like he was just leaving the house like just another day. But it wasn't. He was leaving, forever.

"Harry-!"

Tom's voice came from behind, but Harry ran down the stairs without looking back. He had to go. Now. Right now. He had to go, somewhere that didn't have Tom and didn't remind him of Tom-

The morning cabs were thankfully roaming the streets of central London, where Harry and Tom lived. Quickly, Harry hailed one down, and it stopped right in front of him in an instant. When he got in, he gave the driver Ron and Hermione's address, and couldn't help himself from looking outside the window. The driver drove off almost immediately after Harry jumped in, which allowed Harry only a glimpse of Tom. He was standing on the pavement in front of their flat, bare-chested in his silver sweatpants, looking at the direction to where Harry has gone. 

When he couldn't see Tom anymore, he finally turned around and sunk deep to his seat.

Tears came like waterfalls, and Harry sobbed into his hands, quitely.

He still loved Tom. More than anything.

**Author's Note:**

> * Not proof-read, please ignore the mistakes!  
* Next chapter's from Tom's perspective.


End file.
